


Forward Motion

by vix_spes



Category: Arctic (2018), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Late Night (2019)
Genre: Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 01:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: In the fall-out of the whole situation with Katherine, Charlie found himself wandering the city aimlessly. he wasn't expecting to find someone whose life was even more of a train wreck than his.





	Forward Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cinnamaldeide's Rare Meat fest and for prompt 257 on the Meet-Cute Tumblr. Title comes from the song of the same name by Daya which appears on the Late Night OST.

In the aftermath of the news of his affair with Katherine breaking, Charlie had found himself at a complete loss for what to do. He could hardly show his face in the writers’ room. They probably all hated him now. Especially Molly. God, she must think that he was a grade A asshole. Not that she was wrong. He’d always been that way – thinking with his dick and fuck anyone who either got in his way or who fell by the wayside. In this case, he hadn’t just been thinking with his dick.

Charlie wasn’t going to lie, he had been mostly thinking with his dick because Katherine was an attractive woman in her prime, but he had also been thinking strategically. He had thought that being in Katherine’s bed might reflect favourably on his material making it into the show. It hadn’t worked. Not really. Oh, he had done better than most of the other writers but, truthfully, it was Tom who had the most material make it into the show.

And then Molly had been hired to shake them up.

She’d certainly done that to all of them, Charlie included. They had known that the show wasn’t as good as it used to be, but they had grown arrogant or was it complacent? Hell, it was probably both. They were writers on the Tonight with Katherine Newbury show; what did it matter that some of their writing got a little lazy? Only Katherine starting firing writers and the new girl – Molly – was writing stuff that was better than any of them had done in years. Except maybe Tom, but there was no way Charlie was admitting to that.

So, of course, Charlie had tried to dip his pen in the office ink for the second time (he was going to ignore the fact that he’d slept with most of the receptionists in the building). It had actually been far more work than he had envisaged, and he’d actually failed.

He never failed with women.

Ever.

Hell, he’d managed to have an affair lasting several months with Katherine, but he couldn’t bed some chit that had worked in some hick chemical plant? It was ridiculous. He’d liked Molly, he really had. She was cute and funny but, well, you couldn’t change the habits of a lifetime and Charlie had needs; if she wasn’t going to fulfil them, then he was going to look elsewhere. That was a simple fact.

How was it him that had come out worst in the whole thing? How was he the bad guy? He wasn’t the one who was married! Who the fuck had leaked the information of his and Katherine’s affair? Somebody must have heard them talking at the party. He knew that he’d been taking a risk talking to her, but he’d just needed _something._ Who could have heard them that would have something to gain from it being common knowledge? And then it hit him; Billy Kastner. Of course. He wanted his guy in the prime time; what better way to do that than toppling Katherine, who he hated. He’d never been a fan of Charlie either, so the opportunity to fuck them both over was irresistible.

Basically, whatever had happened, all it boiled down to was the fact that Charlie was the one wandering the streets of New York with no job and no friends. Katherine may be being slated for her actions now, but she would weather the storm and come out on top; of that, Charlie had no doubts. He could go back to the writing room, but what would be the point? They’d just let him go in a few weeks anyway. All he could do was hope that they’d give him a good reference. Which was why he was aimlessly wandering the streets instead of being at work, trying to decide what to do with his life now; he’d been doing this job since he left college and it was pretty much the only job that he had ever had.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking the streets of New York for, but it had been long enough for night to fall and for him to end up somewhere in the city that he definitely didn’t recognise. The streets weren’t quite as busy as they would be in Manhattan, maybe even in Brooklyn, but neither were they empty. Some of the shop fronts had metal grilles down, there were a few buildings with windows and doors boarded up but what made it truly interesting was the graffiti all over. There was the usual sort of stuff – tags and the like – but then there were some absolutely incredible pieces of art. Charlie had been to a few of the many galleries dotted around New York – not that many because he always got bored by the women he picked up there – but some of this stuff was better than the crap being exhibited. Some of it was even good enough that he got his phone out to snap a couple of shots for Instagram.

He’d just taken a photo of a pop-art inspired mural, with some cool, twisted, distorted shapes in the background, when he spotted someone stood on the sidewalk a bit further on from Charlie just staring at another piece of graffiti. The piece in question was huge and, admittedly, breath-taking. Again, it was a mural but of different landscapes all blending into each other from rainforest to sunrise over canyons to ice-covered vistas to the mighty metropolis of New York herself. Charlie could certainly see why the man was so captivated by it. Deciding to wander over for a closer look, Charlie could see that the man wasn’t merely captivated, he was transfixed, tears streaming down his face as he stared at it.

Charlie froze, unsure of what to do. Did he check to see if the guy was okay or did he act like a total dick and just walk away? The second option was tempting and, admittedly, was what he would have done any other day. Why would he want to speak to a stranger? Especially if they were going to cry all over him. However, there was something about this guy, something that was stopping Charlie from just ignoring him. This would just count as his good deed of the decade, because his treatment of Molly sure as hell didn’t count.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped forward just as the man reached forward and touched a section of the mural, his breath hitching as he did so. As he drew closer, Charlie saw that it was three words in pure white, designed to stand out.

‘You are Alive’.

“Are you okay?”

The man turned his head and Charlie was struck by the sight of whisky-honey coloured eyes in a weather-beaten face, surrounded by a mane of hair that was a mix of tawny blended with salt and pepper. Even with the tears that still filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks, it was an entirely too attractive combination than Charlie was prepared to deal with. Instead, he focused on why he felt like he knew this man. There was something niggling at him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. And then the man was speaking with an accent that Charlie couldn’t place other than it was European.

“I very nearly died recently. Technically, I suppose I did die and the realisation that I survived – that I am alive – is still sometimes overwhelming.”

He wiped his eyes and scrubbed his face with a handkerchief before holding his hand out to Charlie, “I appreciate your concern. Thank you for stopping. I admit that I hadn’t expected it in New York, as ashamed as I am to say it. I am Huxley Overgård.”

“Charlie Fain.”

Overgård. Overgård. Why was that name so familiar? He was talking about surviving, nearly dying. The way that his gaze had lingered most over the scene depicting lands of ice and snow. And then it came to him. Overgård. The pilot who had been found in the Arctic. Missing presumed dead. His face had been all over the news a few weeks ago. If Charlie remembered rightly, Overgård’s plane had gone down in the Arctic and he had – somehow – survived. And not merely survived. He had walked hundreds of kilometres dragging the injured survivor of a second crash with him. He had not only faced down the hostile landscape but it’s inhabitants as well.

All of the shows had been clamouring to snag him as a guest, but he had refused all offers. And here was Charlie, running across him on a random street. The irony didn’t escape him. Yet, there was something about this man that intrigued Charlie. Something more than just his undoubtable strength of both character and physical strength. There was something in the warmth of his eyes that drew Charlie in, made him want to get to know this man better; he wasn’t sure to what end precisely. Nevertheless, he found his mouth opening and words emerging before his brain had completely processed what he was doing. 

“Well, we can’t have you having an awful impression of New Yorkers. Let me make it better; allow me to buy you a drink? Coffee or … a beer? Wine?”

When it came to women, Charlie had the confidence. He knew that he sounded suave and could pretty much pick up any woman that he wanted. Now, he felt – and probably sounded – awkward. But why did that matter to him? It wasn’t as though he was trying to pick Overgård up on a date. Yet, he couldn’t deny that his pulse skipped a little bit faster as lips curved in that full beard and the man nodded his acceptance. 

“A beer … would be nice. Lead the way.”

Charlie slanted a sideways glance towards the man as they started walking in the direction of the nearest bar once he’d checked his phone for guidance. He had a good feeling about this.


End file.
